


A Wedding-Day Conversation

by Mithen



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Conversations, Friendship, Gen, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 04:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14845595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: On her wedding day, Celebrian has an unexpected visit from Glorfindel.





	A Wedding-Day Conversation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heraldofmanwe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heraldofmanwe/gifts).



> For HeraldofManwe's birthday! Thank you for all your beautiful stories...

“May I have a moment with Lady Celebrían?”

The bustling activity in the room dimmed as everyone looked over at the doorway where Glorfindel stood. Then there were nervous bows and curtseys, babbled phrases of assent, and the elves in the room disappeared like a flock of startled doves. Glorfindel was dressed in vibrant blue embroidered all over with tiny golden flowers, his hair in a complex plait under a simple golden diadem with three star sapphires set into it, their blue less deep than his eyes. Proper attire for a wedding.

Celebrían’s hands were cold. She clenched them in the fabric of her gown, feeling the brocade under her fingers, and sat in silence, waiting for Glorfindel to enter the room.

“May I enter, my Lady?” Glorfindel’s voice was gentle, but she could hear the warrior’s steel within it. She nodded once, staring at the window and the jasmine swaying outside it.

She had seen little of the legendary Glorfindel since coming to Imladris, but she knew he was one of the souls closest to her betrothed. The first time she had met him, his clear eyes had seemed to pierce her soul, and she had felt all the weight of the stars within them. He had bowed before her and she had felt frozen with the certainty that she would be found wanting by this great warrior, but he had said nothing then. Why was he here now: to lecture her on her duties as the Lady of Imladris? To ask whether her loyalties lay with the Hidden Valley or with her mother in the Golden Wood? To inform her that Elrond could do better? She thought of Elrond’s gentle eyes and soft laughter and her heart tightened even as her spine stiffened. She loved him with all her heart and she was worthy to be here, she knew it, no matter what others might say.

With that thought in her mind, she raised her chin and looked Glorfindel squarely in the eyes, ready for anything.

“I thought you might like a moment of relative quiet,” Glorfindel said, a thread of laughter in his voice. Her defiance faltered suddenly as he sat down on a stool next to her. “Elrond has often mentioned that it is when you seem most composed that you are yearning for some peace and quiet, and when I looked within, you looked so magnificently composed that I felt perhaps I should intervene.” 

There was affection in his voice--both for Elrond and for herself--and Celebrían abruptly had no idea what to say. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice still chilly despite herself.

“Would you mind terribly if I plaited your hair?” Glorfindel said. “I’m sure your maidservant will do it perfectly fine, but I always find it calming. Both to do it for someone and to have it done for me.”

This time she managed a polite smile. “Certainly,” she said.

He pulled the heavy wooden stool behind her, picked up a mother-of-pearl comb, and began to comb her hair. His hands were so gentle that she couldn’t quite believe that they were the same hands that had once faced down a Balrog, if the stories were true. “I’m a little nervous,” he said in a confessional tone, and a sudden bark of surprised laughter escaped her.

“You? Nervous?”

“Indeed,” he said, twining her hair deftly. “I am not one for grand speeches, and yet as Elrond’s second, I am required to speak a toast for him this evening. I find myself… anxious.” As if he could sense the bubble of nervous laughter continuing to fizz in her chest, he said, “Perhaps you think it impossible that I could find such a thing difficult, but I am not… often given to eloquence.” He braided another piece of her hair with deft motions. “I do not wish to fail him,” he said in a low voice, and Celebrían could hear an undercurrent of distress in his voice that overcame her shyness entirely.

She reached up and touched one of his hands, and they stilled in their motion. “You will do well,” she said, grateful to not have the weight of his starry gaze upon her. “Just… talk about the haven that he has established here. Speak of his gentleness, of his wisdom. After all that he has been through, to have the courage to heal, to build up instead of to tear down… he is extraordinary.” She heard her voice falter into sudden tears as her heart yearned for him: her betrothed, her beloved, the one she had loved so deeply since first she had spoken to him. “Speak from the heart and all will be well,” she managed to say.

“Thank you, my Lady,” Glorfindel said in a subdued voice, and silence fell in the room for a while has he went back to braiding her hair. Yet it was not an awkward silence: she sat with her heart full, letting the calm of Imladris and the skillful rhythmic motion of Glorfindel’s hands soothe her.

“There.” He fastened a comb into the hair at the back of her neck and picked up a mirror. “How does it look?” He smiled at her within the mirror, but this time she could see the faint uncertainty in his eyes. “I’m certain there will be time for it to be re-done before the ceremony if it’s not--”

“--It’s perfect,” she said swiftly, smiling at him. “I will wear it with honor. Thank you for the moment of peace, and I look forward to your speech this evening.”

“It will be my privilege to speak of my friend and my Lord,” Glorfindel said. 

He took her hand and raised it briefly to his lips before going on:

“And of the extraordinary lady he has chosen to share his life with.”


End file.
